


Alpenglow

by CodingGengar



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post - A Dance With Dragons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 10:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10897023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodingGengar/pseuds/CodingGengar
Summary: The Battle against the White Walkers was only the beginning of their rule. The three heads of the dragon: Dany, Aegon, and Jon.





	1. Roaming the endless prairie

The cold wind felt like knives cutting her face, and Daenerys could do nothing but ignore the pain and keep commanding her army from the skies. Her eyes could barely adjust to the dim light of a storm sky as she tried to manoeuvre Drogon to avoid the strikes of sheer cold that came from the ice dragon's mouth, have him breathe fire over the foe, and keep from burning her army and her allies.

"We can't keep doing this," came the shout from her left side, and she didn't have to turn to see the King in the North and her nephew, Jon, atop Rhaegal. "We need to think this through, search for weaknesses."

A crow flew around them. Daenerys marvelled at the abilities of the young Stark boy and his control over all kinds of creatures. She suppressed a frustrated groan, her mind going to Jon and Rhaegal. While she suffered to control Drogon, Jon and Rhaegal seemed at ease immediately, the dragon taking a liking to the bastard that she couldn't understand at first. When the Stark boy told them he was the son of Rhaegar everything made sense, but Daenerys still felt envious.

"Drogon! _Sōvegon_ eglikta!" the command, yelled in the language of her ancestors, reached Drogon easily and he obeyed. She eyed Jon, noticing he did not have to say anything to Rhaegal for the dragon to follow his will.

It's their Stark blood, she told herself as she flew, overlooking the Battle being fought between men and the ungodly creatures of cold. Daenerys recalled the warnings said to her by the Dosh Khaleen and the servants of the Red God, all of them warning of the same thing: a world ruled by ice and death. She would not let it happen.

"Jon! Bring Aegon and follow me," she commanded, standing her ground when Jon sent her a glance which spoke of protest. They remained still in the air for less than a second before Rhaegal launched forward and attacked an ice dragon. "Jon! Do as I command!"

The son of Rhaegar ignored her request and she was left alone soaring the sky above him, watching him and Rhaegal dance around the ice beast, Rhaegal attacking with fire and Jon with the bastard sword and the dragonglass spear. Soon, Jon cut the eye of the ice dragon, breaking the spear during the process. It was then that Rhaegal opened his wings at their top length and clawed at the ice dragon's mutilated face during enough time for Jon to climb in Rhaegal's neck to slash at the ice dragon's neck with the valyrian steel sword. Rhaegal got hold of the ice dragon and Jon fought to get into the makeshift saddle again.

Daenerys flew near them, just enough to catch her blood if he should fall, but he didn't, and once he was safe on the saddle, Rhaegal let out a breath of fire so hot it glowed green. The fire made her think of wildfire and her father's alleged obsession with it. Daenerys pursed her lips and recovered herself from the surprise of Jon's actions.

"Do not disobey me again!" she yelled at him with all the might of her title and heritage: she was the Queen, not him. Even if Aegon turned out to be a Blackfyre as many lords thought, Jon would not get near her Throne. "Get Aegon and Viserion. We will fly into the cold."

"I couldn't let the beast here to freeze our men!" he shout at her before flying down into the fight, his dragon burning many wights in their path to Aegon.

Daenerys heard herself shout _drakarys_ no less than sixteen times, each of them burning many weights and even the odd White Walker before her nephews came back. They circled each other, their minds split between themselves and the fighting below.

"We need to fly further north!" She yelled, feeling the wind drying her throat and her breath growing short. "Our fight is there, not here."

Daenerys saw Aegon laugh, his indigo eyes sparkling through wind and snow and hail. "The Targaryens of old believed themselves gods. This is a fight of gods, isn't it?"

She couldn't find anything funny in his statement, but hearing his melodic laughter being joined by that serious chuckle of Jon's was enough to make her smile reluctantly.

"We are the blood of Old Valyria," Aegon continued, always the one to infuse them with confidence. "We are the three heads of the dragon."

Daenerys nodded and they flew forward, her mind on Aegon's words. As much as they were the heads, and as much as she was the mother of dragons, she would not end this mythical conflict and neither would Aegon.

As they flew into the cold, Daenerys saw Jon and the grave expression he wore. She was sure Aegon couldn't feel the same as her, but there was no doubt that Jon was special. Jon had power beyond their dreams, and his blood was the one who would end the Long Night. He was the Prince that was promised, the defeater of evil. His was the song of ice and fire, but she could not let him take what was hers.

 _The Iron Throne will not be_ his _to take. I am the rightful Queen, and the dragons they ride are my children. I am the Queen. I am the Queen._


	2. Writing an endless story

The Wall was quiet when Aegon heard his Aunt shout again, this time at least refraining from cursing in a manner most unbecoming. He sighed and continued to play his silver harp, pulling the strings with fingers almost frozen, trying to keep the high spirits of the three dragons he had to babysit while Daenerys and Jon fought again. She would not bend, but he would not back down, and Aegon only wished for them to stop fighting. There had already been too many wars fought over the Iron Throne, and while he had come to Westeros wishing to fight for it too, that was left in the past.

"Do you think your mother will understand someday?" he asked the dragons, even if they had no way to really answer him. Drogon let out what Aegon could only describe as a smokey snort, Viserion tucked his head into his wings and cuddled against Rhaegal. And Rhaegal just kept looking straight at him, almost distracting Aegon from the next string. Maybe Jon was paying more attention to him than to Dany. He chuckled, thinking how angrier will his aunt get when she noticed it.

"It is her fault, really," Aegon told Rhaegal, who seemed as the only dragon who would listen to him. And the only being too, actually, because nobody wanted to be with the three Targaryen at the moment. "We are blood, yes, and we are the three parts of the same Kingdom, but we will not submit to her will."

"And why won't you, if you don't mind me asking?" Aegon calmly turned around to see an angry Daenerys fuming at him, her mouth a thin line and her big lilac eyes fixed on him. Jon, who was leaning against the door behind her, was smiling amusedly. He looked more tired than any of them, and Aegon was sure the death of the last of the Night's Watch was a heavyweight for his brother to bear.

He didn't stop playing his harp even as he stood and smiled at Daenerys, thinking how to make her understand their position without revealing his endgame.

"Because if you push us, Aunt, we will have to make you remember Rhaegar had two legitimate sons who come before you in the succession to the Throne."

His words were met with fire in her eyes, and then she looked on the verge of tears. She was younger than him, Aegon remembered, and even if she had suffered more than he or Jon had during their childhoods, most of her innocence regarding her rightful ruling remained the same.

"You were not the one to hatch those dragons with fire and the blood of your only living family!" she shouted angrily and bitterly, her eyes betraying what her posture didn't. She was losing this battle, and both Aegon and Jon knew it.

"We were the riders that accompanied you to the cold," Jon said from behind her, almost instantly looking older than her, too, even if he was even younger. "We fought on the ground, too, and saw our friends die around us."

Aegon nodded, his eyes making contact with his brothers' and lending him his support.

"My men died there," Daenerys insisted, madly trying to make them understand her point, but Aegon knew it was futile. Jon was already sure of his next step, and so was Aegon. "I lost my soldiers, too!"

Aegon could see the almost imperceptible wince from Jon. Daenerys had said the wrong thing.

"Exactly," he said before Jon would make it worse in his grief. "All your friends are rebuilding King's Landing and Casterly Rock. You cared for the soldiers who died there, but you did not grow up with them. You did not laugh with them during dinners or shared a cask of ale during the cold nights before the battle. We saw our friends die, and you only saw soldiers."

Silence came after his words, and Daenerys went to the window, standing still beneath the moonlight. Jon made a gesture to him with his hands, asking him silently why had he reacted that way. Aegon shrugged and sighed. He had not meant to say it, but he could not let Daenerys claim she was the saviour who loved her army when he had lost Jon Connington, Duck, and the many men who followed him since he landed on Storm's End a lifetime ago. He remembered taking the time to dine with each of the lords and knights who pledged their support to his claim and his cause, laughing at the prospect of him being the second Aegon the Conqueror and building peace over ale and wine and songs. Aegon closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dany," he said, stepping closer to her and putting a hand over her shoulder. She did not need more to lean into him and cry, letting out all the frustration and pain and fear she had forbidden herself from feeling during so many years.

For what seemed like an entire night, Dany cried in his arms. Aegon saw Jon leave, but didn't see him come back with Ghost and wine. He passed the bottle to Aegon, who gulped from it as if it was the last drop of Arbor gold when it really was a piss poor wine from the Fingers. Jon leant into his other side, not embracing them but offering the comfort of his presence and blood.

"We are family," Jon finally said. "But you must understand I have no wish to go South. The North is my home, and Winterfell needs me. Rhaegar was my father, but Ned Stark raised me. I owe to him more than I will ever owe Rhaegar, Dany."

Aegon felt Dany stiff on his arms, and he knew she hurt from hearing Jon dismiss his father so quickly. Aegon could not share her thoughts because by fathering Jon Rhaegar condemned them all. He was with his brother in this.

"I will go with you, Dany," he said, not sighing as to not hurt her feelings anymore. All of them knew what it was to feel alone, but Daenerys was the only of them who did not wear her solitude as armour. She really was lonely. "We will rule the south together, and Jon will rule the North. The Targaryens would still be the rightful Kings and Queen."

She nodded into the crook of his neck, and Aegon felt her fall asleep soon after, exhaustion finally claiming her.

He and Jon finished the bottle of wine, and then a skin, without standing up from where they were.

"What about your lady?" Jon asked him. "The one you mentioned before."

As Aegon thought of grey eyes so like his brother's, and of a light dancer as dangerous as a Faceless Man, he shook his head. He remembered the look on her eyes when she met her one-time-brother once again.

"She will be cared for and loved," Aegon told him, his heart already aching. "She is strong and doesn't need me."


	3. Building a Walden of our own

The shadows began to shrink over the ground with each passing second as the dragons who cast them flew South. The riders, Jon's brother and aunt, not distinguishable anymore from that height. A feeling of sadness overcame the lone man standing in the courtyard, watching as his only family, from his father's side, flew to the other end of the continent.

As soon as the dragons became invisible in the morning sky, Jon went in.

The hall was lively, though not many people were awake at that hour. Most preferred to stay with heir families, content in their knowledge of a long spring. Jon's siblings (he would never be able to call them cousins) were present at the high table, looking over at him with pained expressions. More than anyone else, the Starks knew the value of family, and the ache brought by unwanted farewells.

Jon smiled at them, though it felt more a grimace like those King Stannis used to show. Still, the ever-gracious Sansa smiled back and pointed to the chair opposite of her. It was the chair Father had sat upon, a lifetime ago, but to Jon, it was no more than a chair: his Uncle-turned-father didn't care for material possessions, and Jon felt pride at that. The Starks knew what really mattered.

"You could have gone with them," Arya said, staring at Jon with intent.

He could not avoid those eyes, and he knew Arya suspected his true thoughts just by looking at him. Her stare had always been forceful, but since she came back from the other side of the Narrow Sea, it seemed as if she could always know what went in other's minds.

"You should have gone with them," Bran replied, not giving Jon the chance to speak, and narrowing his eyes. "Winter is truly gone, but that doesn't mean your quest is finished, cousin."

"Jon's place is here, at Winterfell, with us," Sansa added, her eyes turning into ice. She had been the most lonely out of the five of them, imprisoned in King's Landing and then isolated in the Eyrie. She was also the colder of them, and how a sweet girl became like that bothered Jon. "He belongs with his family."

"The Targaryens are Jon's family, too," Arya pointed out, visibly upset at the thought of sharing only a part of Jon's blood that was more farly-related that what they once thought. "Even if that stupid boy is prettier than Sansa, and the girl is dumber than Jon himself, they are his family."

It was then that Jon's lips quirked upwards, and he shot a glance to Sansa. His sister was also smiling, and even Bran looked more relaxed.

"The pretty boy thinks you are pretty, too, sister," Bran said, dipping the wheat bread into his wine and taking a bite from it. "And he wouldn't have minded taking you away."

Bran, Sansa, and Jon laughed at the startled face of Arya, her cheeks reddening with either coyness or anger. She promptly went into a litany of curses, but Jon and his siblings could see through her.

"The truth is," Jon said once the laughter and Arya's words faded into silence. "I can't give them what they want. They want a King: I'm not. I will always be a bastard, be it Ned Stark's or Rhaegar Targaryen's."

"You are no bastard at our table, and certainly not in our hearts, Jon," Bran wisely responded, and for the first time Jon saw him as more father's than Lady Catelyn's. "I assure you Aegon doesn't think of you like that, either."

Jon didn't ask how he knew. Same as Arya, Bran had a way of knowing things that were completely unrelated to being the Three-Eyed Crow.

"But Daenerys does," Sansa told them. "She feels threatened by both you and your brother, but she knows better than to go and make those feelings public. It's wise of her to want to marry you both, to become three rulers instead of three factions of another civil war."

"She wants to marry you? And Aegon?" Arya asked, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed again. "The girl is already crazy if she thinks more Targaryen interbreeding will stop another war. It will most certainly create further trouble."

"I can agree with that," Bran added, his eyes lost. Jon could only imagine the things his brother saw, and the situations he could prevent if only he wasn't so firmly set on the not-intervening rule. "But unfortunately, we are not the kings and queens."

Jon wanted to say something, mostly because his siblings turned to him, expectant. He remembered Robb, and how being King caused his death; he remembered himself, and how believing himself to be the Lord of Winterfell caused Rickon's death.

"I am a bastard," he said again, searching for understanding on his siblings' part, and knowing it was useless. They didn't understand what the word truly meant for the world. "And even if the North declared its independence, we would be doing more harm than good. The Riverlands would see it as a slight after being part of Robb's lands: Stark lands. I don't want to know what the other Houses would do."

"The Vale would seek their independence, too," Sansa pointed out, her index finger resting on her bottom lip. "And the Reach. The Westerlands don't have a choice but to bend the knee or being granted to the Ironborn. And that leaves the Stormlands and Dorne, full of Aegon's supporters."

"Daenerys doesn't have good odds."

As Arya shared those last thoughts, Jon thought back to his Aunt's offer of a joint rule. Maybe Dany was right, and only the marriage of her to the two sons of Rhaegar would bring peace.

"Let's not start a civil war so soon," Bran said quietly. "We don't have the strength to oppose dragons, and our people don't have the will."

The four siblings remained silent, and Sansa drank the last of Jon's wine.

"I like what Bran said," she told them. "Our people."

Arya smiled and in her bright face, Jon recognised the innocence they all used to have. Bran smiled too if a tad sadly.

"We are the children of Ned Stark," Jon told them, smiling. "Of course they are ours to protect."


	4. Grieving the saddened faces

Since she was a little girl, Viserys taught her she would rule the Seven Kingdoms one day. There was not much for them in Essos. It was a foreign world, and instead of adapting to it she learned to long for an unforgiving throne she had never seen in her life. Years later, when her brother was dead and she birthed dragons from fire and blood, Dany realised for the first time that the Iron Throne had been Viserys' dream and not hers.

All she wanted was the house with the red door and the lemon tree by its side. Where would that be? Pentos? Myr? Sunspear?

"We will be there soon, Dany," Aegon said.

He was smiling, as was his way. By looking at him Daenerys found the strength to go on even when she wanted to land and rest in the wilderness of her Kingdom. Instead, she shot a look at Aegon.

His eyes were fixed in the King's Road, where the snow had already melt and the spring took hold of the land. It was a beautiful sight of green grass and yellow flowers.

"I don't want to be Queen," she confessed suddenly, surprised at the audacity of her words. Everyone who had rallied to her cause, all the soldiers that died for her and all the blood shed... Her words became ashes in her mouth. "If you want the Iron Throne, Aegon, I won't oppose."

Aegon didn't react. He kept looking ahead, where King's Landing could already be seen in the distance. She kept her eyes straight ahead too.

"I was raised to be King, Dany," he said. Dany could feel the resignation coming through his voice and wondered if it would be better to leave the Seven Kingdoms at the mercy of any other ruler? Aegon was not the Conqueror, Daenerys was not the Good Queen, and Jon was not the Unlikely. "But I don't wish for a crown anymore. I have seen what it brings and it's not a life I want."

Dany agreed. Of all the wars, the only one that mattered was fought well away from the Throne with no crown to be earned.

"Yet you were right before," Aegon continued. This time he did look upon her eyes. "If the dragonriders of Targaryen blood don't want the Throne it will be ripe for picking and war will return. The lords are afraid of another Field of Fire and we are the cause. As Kings and Queen, we can have their allegiance but as Lord and Lady of Dragonstone we will be prey."

Dany nodded and Aegon smiled sadly. It was a hard predicament and her insecurities made it worse. She had been Khaleesi and her husband, son, and brother paid with their lives. She had been Queen of Mereen and the city crumbled to the ground.

"Besides, can you really imagine Tyrion as King?"

The jest on his voice made her lips quiver with a smile that hid tears. She knew Tyrion could be a capable king, but the people would never love him, and never fear him.

"He would rule well," Dany said, defending her chosen Hand. That would have to change now. There couldn't be three positions of power in King's Landing, no matter how much tradition decreed they should have a Hand. "I have been thinking of granting him lands from the Riverlands to assimilate into the Westerlands."

She saw Aegon frown. The Riverlands should be another bargaining chip for them, but in his eyes shone anger for some reason.

"Do what you must, Dany," he said bitterly. "I will support you."

Dany didn't want them to fight anymore. It was hard enough knowing he and Jon had been thinking of abandoning her to the mercy of the high Lords and court life. She was thankful that he didn't argue her decision, but his hesitation brought doubts. Was she doing the right thing by favouring a Lannister after all the family did to Westeros?

Tyrion had worked hard to mend his mistakes, and Aegon knew that. Both of them had spoken about meeting the other and being impressed. Jon and Tyrion had met too, years before, and agreed that the other was a good person and highly honourable.

"Do you think I'm wrong?"

He said nothing for a few moments, and when he spoke again it was not of the topic.

"We're closer now. Maybe we should speed up and see what Tyrion achieved."

Aegon and Viserion hurled forward, leaving her behind for seconds until Drogon caught up with them and surpassed Aegon's dragon. She felt the thrill of speed again, with the fresh wind hitting her face. It didn't last. When they arrived at the city, the smell of smoke and faeces reached them.

She had forgotten how crude the city was and wondered if she would rather arrive at a clean but slaved city like Qarth.

"This is awful."

Aegon didn't hear. He was almost at the Red Keep and going down to the delight of the few peasants out on the streets. She followed him but let him land first.

There was no one there to greet them. Maybe the news hadn't travelled as fast as them and the people thought their monarchs dead and gone.

Aegon chose not to wait for a welcome and extended her hand to him.

"Umbagon kesīr," she told the dragons. Viserion looked over to Aegon as if trying to confirm the order. She smiled when Aegon nodded and brought her hand to his.

The Castle was silent, and those who saw them hurried to attend them. Cloaks were brought to cover them and Dany noticed only then that her body was shivering. She felt elated, though, and when the Throne Room was opened for them she lost all her doubts.

The metal creation of her ancestor stood in the middle of the room with its back against a partially destructed wall. There was no snow falling but Dany could see the similarities to the dream she had long ago when her path took her to the Undying Ones.

"This is it," Aegon said at her side, equally mesmerised by the throne. He took a hesitant step forward and she followed him, her hand still warm in his.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness."

Tyrion was there, and with him came the court. It was strange to be in front of them, underdressed for the occasion. Still, every man and woman stared at them in awe. Without prompting, their subjects kneeled.

When they rose and Dany saw the sad faces and hopeful eyes, she understood that they didn't see them as mighty Targaryens but as the chance of peace. Letting herself go from Aegon's hand, she walked among the thirty or so people in the room. There were serving maids and cooks, and a handful of lords and ladies. They were equal then.

 _Everyone's equal when they're dead_.

She vowed to never let them die a bloody death. War would be kept away from her and Aegon's rule. She would rule with peace instead.

"You have lost so much," came the words from her mouth and her eyes watered. Aegon was immediately at her side, holding her in a sweet embrace. "I have seen war. I have led soldiers, but I had never seen..."

"The truly face of war? It's a gruesome thing the highborn doesn't experience as much as the lowborn, Your Grace."

Tyrion's words cut deep in her soul.

"Let us hold court for the first time, Lord Tyrion," Aegon said. His eyes were shining with determination.

Daenerys straightened herself. Their rule wouldn't begin with their coronation or when people came back to the capital. Their rule would begin with those who stayed and waited for them; with the man and woman who held hope for a new day.

"If you don't mind me asking, who will sit on the Throne?"

Aegon and Daenerys looked at each other with complicit glances. "We have an idea for that," Aegon told Tyrion with a smile.

Two chairs were brought from the kitchens that day, and the King and Queen of Westeros sat on them.


End file.
